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“Really?”
“A sketchbook, at least, but we’ll make sure we set aside enough time to spend a couple of hours there for you.”
I eyed him as he unpacked the chicken. “All right, I believe you. It sounds fascinating.”
He smiled at me. “One of the best stories the island has. Trust me on that.”
“Can we go this week?”
Matthew nodded. “I’ll check my schedule and we’ll go down there. Weather permitting, of course, but I think the forecast is pretty good now this week.”
I took the chicken from him and set it in the roasting dish, then washed my hands. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’m sure you will, love.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EVA
The sun was out for the first time in two days, confirming Matthew’s declaration that the weather was due to be good this week. And thank bloody God for that, because I was about ready to lie under a big old lightbulb just for some light that wasn’t dreary and grey.
Matthew was still asleep. I didn’t know how he could sleep so late. Perhaps it was the artist in me who had a love for the early hours, when the world was still in dreamland and the only thing awake was the birds, but I couldn’t sleep past seven. Eight if it’d been an extra late night.
The house was extremely quiet with nobody else around, so I decided to get the dogs and walk through the garden. I hadn’t been out there yet, and with the sun out, if still low in the sky, I wanted to explore it some.
Unlike Bentley Manor where my sister lived with her fiancé, Alexander, the gardens at Menai Castle were perfectly landscaped, and I hoped I’d find some inspiration or some spots to paint in. If my things were being delivered on Tuesday as they were supposed to be, I’d have my portable easel that I could bring around with me.
It was also a good excuse to get the dogs to stretch their legs. Baxter and Jack were full of energy, and even though Lucy was older and a bit slower, I’d learnt that she was always game for a gentle wander.
I opened the back door and shooed them out in front of me. It was a little chilly out, so I quickly doubled back to grab a light jacket from the hooks in the mudroom. I shut the door behind me and slipped my arms into it, tugging the long sleeves up so my hands were out and free.
Wait.
This wasn’t my coat.
Ugh.
I couldn’t be arsed to go back and change it, so I just yanked the sleeves up a little higher and made the most of it. Matthew’s coat hung off me, and I had no doubt I looked rather ridiculous in it, but whatever. I was warm and comfortable, and that was what mattered.
I took the dogs to their gravelled toilet spot. I was quite impressed by the idea of it—the poop was easy to scoop, and all the pea gravel needed was to be washed down with a hosepipe every couple of days.
It was efficient.
When they were done, I patted my thigh for them to follow me. All three did, happily wagging their tails as we explored the endless winding pathways. They all led the way at various points, and at times, I wasn’t sure who was guiding who.
There were twists and turns aplenty, and I briefly wondered how in the hell I was going to find my way back to the house. I’d probably have to trust the dogs—no doubt they would be able to find their way home.
I should have put my watch on. At least then I could count my steps.
“Ceri!” a voice called, followed by a string of Welsh that sounded like little more than gobbledegook to my English ears.
I turned in the direction the voice had come from, and a little girl who looked no older than two or three appeared around a corner. She stopped dead in her path at the sight of Baxter who, for his part, was largely unbothered by her.
“Dog!” she—Ceri?—shouted, pointing at him. “Big dog!”
“Baxter, sit,” I said softly, and he did just as he was told. “Don’t worry, he’s very friendly.”
“Big dog,” she repeated, keeping her finger pointed at him while looking at me. “Oh, little dog!” She giggled, pressing her hands to her mouth when Jack appeared with a ball in his mouth.
Where the heck did that come from?
“’Nother dog!” More giggles, this time at Lucy, who sat right in front of her, panting, with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth.
“Ceri!” came the voice from before, again followed by fluent Welsh. An older woman rushed over from the same direction Ceri had, and she pulled up short when she saw me. She held more than a passing resemblance to the little girl. Her dark silver hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and her blue eyes flicked left and right as her gaze washed over me speculatively.
